Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Bigger fish to fry

    Data was standing looking out the window of Counselor Troi’s office. For the first time, he felt the emptiness and coldness of space. The twinkling of the stars held little warmth or comfort for him. The deeper he stared; the more this feeling sunk into him. It was an emptiness that was hollow and lifeless. 

   Counselor Troi had taken great pains to make it comfortable for anyone who might come to talk to her. She walked in from a side room. “Data have a seat?” She smiled as she waved him to a chair.

    “I prefer not.” He didn’t even look in her direction. 

    “Why are you here?” She asked as she sat in a chair opposite of a couch where she hoped he would sit.

    “Captain’s orders.”

    “What do you want to talk about?”

    “I do not wish to talk.”

    “To me?”

    “To you or anyone.”

    She wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. She had worked with a lot of different cultures over her career. Usually Data wanted to talk about these matters so that he could understand them better. “Are you upset with the Captain for making you come talk to me?”

    “No.”

    Okay, she thought. “Please come sit down.” She kept her voice calm and pleasant. 

    He did so; after he sat down, he stared directly at her. “That’s uncomfortable, Data.”

    “Why?”

    “This isn’t about me, this is about you.”

    He sat back on the couch, crossed a leg and his arms, before blankly asking, “what do you want to know?”

    “Well, let’s start with how you feel today?”

    “At this moment, I am annoyed.”

    “About?”

    “I do not wish to be here. You cannot help me.”

    “We haven’t even tried yet.”

    “What is the point in trying? I am not the one who needs help.”

    “During the past two weeks you have been expressing characteristics that are not normal behavior for you. I don’t believe it’s merely a glitch in your emotion chip.”

    “What do you think my malfunction is?” He hissed.

    “You have to have a malfunction first.”

    “Really?”

    “Data, you are not making this easy.” She sighed.

    “If you want to evaluate someone, psychoanalyze Westerfieled.”

    Deanna stopped breathing, “Why?” It was impossible for Data to know how she felt about him.

    “Breathe Counselor,” Data encouraged.

    Her eyes got as large as quarters. “Data?” She slid back into her chair. 

    “Do not concern yourself with me. You are going to have more important issues to deal with in about two weeks. The closer we get to where we are going, the more problems you are going to have out of the crew.”

    “Why do you say that?”

    “I am not telepathic. I am observant. I know you get cold chills down your spine when Westerfield looks at you. I know you got sick after you escorted him to his quarters. I know he made advances towards you. I KNOW Westerfield.”

    “Data, I’ve never told anyone those things.”

    “You don’t have to tell me. I know the bastard.”

    “I don’t understand.”

    “The less you know the better you are. You will understand soon enough.” He got up. “Unlike your species, your secret is safe with me.” At the door he turned to Deanna, “if you would take a little advice, until Westerfield is off this ship, wear your regulation uniform.”

    Deanna, whose purpose it was to get Data to open up to her, didn’t like the results of this conversation. She was more confused now than ever. Just a little bit shaken, Data was truly changing.

Men’s jeans

Written around Christmas

Rarely do I buy new jeans. I wear them thread bare before I get rid of them. Then go to a thrift store. This weekend, my bestie and I, go on a last minute Christmas shopping toot. Okay, I’m done Christmas shopping. Her last minute shopping, my toot. 

While in the men’s section, she’s shopping for her husband, I spy this great looking pair of jeans. They look great on the hanger. The color. The style. The design on the back pockets. But they are men’s jeans. Cut for a man’s body. Right guys? 

This starts a conversation about jeans. Men’s jeans are labeled 36/30 for example. Women’s jeans are 6, 12, 16 for example. More and more, I see women’s jeans with a lot more numbers on the labels than I’m comfortable with: 24/26 or 36/37. 

What happened to the days of see jeans, like jeans, try jeans on, buy jeans. I expected to have to ask Google what the size of these  men’s jeans translated to for a woman. I never expected to have to ask what size ladies jeans are. Now we have to woller with waist, hip and inseam measurements. GROSS!

One other thing I’ve noticed, and it could be this brand, the pockets are 3 quarters of the way down my butt. What are you diggin’ for guys? Why are your pockets soooo deep? The front pockets are really deep as well. Guys?! 

Like all the pants I buy, I’m going to have to hem them. For whatever reason short girls can’t have the styles that I like. One time I made a joke, talking about myself, that it broke my heart when I bought my first pair of petite pants. It reaffirmed (for me), that I was short and fat. A lady near by, ripped me to shreds, she would have me know, she wasn’t fat. I just smiled and said, “wasn’t talking about or to you.” Geezs!

I wager, without looking at the label, only 10% of the material is denim. There is a lot of spandex here. This is true for ladies jeans too. In the morning, your pants fit and feel great, by the evening, they are around your ankles. Not because you want them to be. It gets to the point, you’re ready to take the laces out of your shoes to make a belt. Sadly, I have a belt on. I’m still pulling and tugging. I’d like to say that I’ve lost so much weight that’s why I’m fighting with my jeans. 

And guy’s, all my married friends tell me that their husbands don’t have a butt. So why is the seat of these pants roomy on me? More questions as to why the back pockets hang so low? That little watch pocket, I can stick 3 fingers in that little pocket. In ladies jeans, I can barely get a nickel. What gives?  

I was expecting the front to look different. No need for me to spell out any of the whys? Interestingly, they don’t. 

Will I buy men’s jeans again? Most likely. I have room in the thigh area that I love. The material doesn’t feel or look like it’s been painted on. And I’m not into skinny jeans. So yeah! I will be buying men’s jeans again. 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Meet the family

    Data woke up from his dream. “What is wrong with me?” He tried to get up but couldn’t. He couldn’t move anything except his head. He thought about paging Dr. Crusher. He knew every incident he had was reported somewhere. Mythological deities started rolling through his mind. Horus, he who is above. Osiris, King of the dead. Thor, there was something important about him, intense anger, intense love, emanated from him. Almost to the point that the two emotions were one. For some reason Data feared and respected him. Thor was Sher’s father. That is why he was important. Those green eyes read through everything they saw. Then there was Juventus, God of youth. Freya, she was beautiful and furious. Thor’s anger was the mayhem kind. Freya’s was direct with purpose. Data shivered as Morpheus appeared to him; God of dreams. A male voice echoed through his mind, “remember.”

    “Morpheus!” He screamed. Data tried so hard to move, but he struggled against invisible straps. His head throbbed as he moaned. Turritopsis. A jellyfish? No, not a jellyfish, a race of people. He struggled even harder to free himself.

    His door chimed. “Come,” he was hoping for Dr. Crusher. He got Geordi instead.

    “Data?” He just laid still. “What’s happening?”

    Data sighed out of frustration. “I cannot move.” He wiggled his fingers but couldn’t move his wrist. 

    “Are you in pain?”

    “Not yet. Geordi, I do not believe I will ever adapt to your eyes.”

    “Are they that bad?” He sat on the edge of the bed.

    “They are just different. I am used to seeing your visor.”

    “Your language is getting less technical. That will be difficult to adapt to.” Geordi smiled.

    Data’s lips rolled. His breathing increased. He acted like someone who was about to throw up.

    “Data?” Geordi got up and paged Dr. Crusher.

    She ran into the room. Geordi caught her before she could reach the bed.

    Data’s body began to jerk. He muffled a scream the best he could. It felt like volts of electricity were racing through him. Beverly tried; in vain, to pick up anything out of place on her tricorder but couldn’t. After a full minute of spasms, he lay very still. 

    “Data?” Beverly called. She and Geordi just stared at him.

    With a gravelly voice Data said, “JVMO ZP YNLN ZB MTWV.” As soon as he said it, he passed out.

    “Data?” Geordi let her go. She ran over to Data. “Data?” She shook him.

    “Stop.” He sat up moaning. “Geordi, how did you know to catch her?”

    “You were covered with a blue glow.”

    “What is happening here?” Dr. Crusher asked in frustration. “And what does JVMO ZP YNLN ZB MTWV mean?”

    He moaned, trying to get up out of bed instead fell to his knees in the floor. “It means, help me.” He didn’t tell her its entire meaning, ‘Save me DaTa my love.”

    They helped him set on the edge of the bed.

    “You’re sweating again.” Beverly observed.

     “Data?” Geordi knelt in front of him, encouraging him to say something, anything.

    His chest was still pulsating. Beverly touched him, withdrawing her hand instantly. “Ouch,” she shook her hand. “You shocked me.”

    He locked eyes with Geordi for a second. A red hue flashed across his android yellow eyes. He closed his eyes before falling over onto Geordi. “Data?” 

    “Save me.” He whispered.

    Geordi and Beverly just stared at each other.

 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

First meeting

    “Come Data,” Juliana encouraged. The sun beat down outside the Omicron Theta science colony, home of the Soong’s. Data squinted at the direct brightness of the sun. This was his first trip outside since being activated. “Let’s go for a walk. There is much to teach you.”

    “Why?” He questioned.

    “So you can see what you recognize from all the material you have been reading.” They walked around the colony looking at trees, rocks, and everything else near them. 

    “Oh look Data, a rabbit.”

    “Sylvilagus Transitionalis.”

    She stared at him, “What?”

    “New England Cottontail.”

    “Oh,” she chuckled. “No, this is an Eastern Cottontail.”

    “Sylvilous Floridanus.”

    “Correct.” She exclaimed.

    A sparkling in the distance caught his eye. “What is that?”

    “I don’t know. Let’s investigate.” She said excitedly. They walked toward the sparkling light. “How far are we from our dwellings?”

    “5.324 miles.” His answer was almost instant.

    “Inches?”

    “337,328.64.”

    “Kilometers?”

    “8.57164.”

    “Good. How far are we from the colony boundary?”

    “4.461 miles, 282,648.96 feet, 7.18221 kilometers.”

    “Why did you give me those three answers?” She was surprised.

    “You requested the same information with the last question.”

    “You anticipated I would ask you the same questions again?”

    Data stopped walking, “I do not understand….anticipated.”

    Juliana had gotten a couple steps in front of him. She turned and smiled, “to anticipate something is to foresee that something is going to occur.” 

    “Foresee?”

    She sighed, “it means to know beforehand.”

    He started walking again. “You did not specify units of measure.” 

    Juliana stopped walking again. “Wow!” She exclaimed. “Data, here is an excellent lesson in human thinking. Because you gave me information that I didn’t ask for, I assumed you anticipated that I might ask you for the same information again. Therefore; giving me unexpected information. Based on my assumptions, I added emotionally charged subtopics to a conversation, where in your mind; they didn’t exist.” She stood silent for a moment, “just for fun how many centimeters are in 4.461 miles?”

    “718,221.” He didn’t even blink when he answered.

    “You excel at computations.”

    The closer they got to the object the more it began to take shape. It was a series of three different sized cylinders standing up right. They were brown, a lighter shade than the ground around them. There were randomly placed squares on them. The sun reflecting from one square was the sparkling they saw from a distance. There were some trees in the back of the freestanding structures. “There are no other trees that look like those.” Data observed.

    “No, there are not. What does that mean?”

    “They are not indigenous to this planet.”

    “Correct.”

    “Is that a dwelling?”

    “It looks like one; however, I thought the colony was the only place where residents lived?”

    “Perhaps this one is not a member of the colony?”

    “Very good observation. That is different. Different prospectives are good in solving problems. Though I don’t think that is possible.”

    “Why?”

    “We would have known about it. We have sensors all over the planet. We would have picked up the seismic activity from this being erected. The seismographs are so sensitive they can pick up someone walking.” 

    “You mean these things?”

    Juliana jumped, gasping. This confused Data. Behind them stood a lady. She didn’t look like anyone from the colony. She had on a white sundress with large multi-colored flowers on it, with a notched hem. White shoes and a white duchess hat finished her attire. She had long flowing red hair. It blew gently in the breeze. She was holding a cylinder casing in her arms. Data took it from her as she handed it to him. “You don’t own this planet.” She had a strange way of talking. A potent smell flowed from her. It captivated him. All he could do was stare at her as she walked away toward the structure. Juliana noticed Data’s reaction. The feathery little plume and ribbon around her hat bounced with each step. She stopped, turning back toward them. “The trees are silver maples.” She continued walking away. For some odd reason, Data wanted to follow her.

    “Well now. Wasn’t that interesting?” Juliana spoke.

    “How?”

    “A puzzle Data.”

    “A puzzle?”

    “Yes, a puzzle that must be solved.”

    “Why did you jump when she spoke?”

    “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be behind me. It startled me. That is a reflex action we have.”

Thoughts on White Paper

Saturday, June 6th, I went to the Poke Sallet Festival in the Harlan County hills.

The title of this book got my attention; Thoughts on White Paper. Poetry! It’s a book of poetry. Not something I’m used to seeing at festivals. So yes, I bought one.

Her poem, My Face is my favorite. It is very obvious that the author had a happy childhood. And the playful little girl in the mirror is still inside her.

“I looked in the mirror, and what did I see

but a funny little girl looking back at me.”

This poem is a reminder that it’s okay to be silly at times. “That the person in the mirror grew up to be me” and the author states, “there’s nobody else I’d rather be.”

From childhood moment, to the passing of life, Phillips shares with us her thoughts in verse.

This is an easy read. Extremely enjoyable.

I asked the author Krista Phillips if it was okay to talk about her on my YouTube channel. It’s a baby. But I’m hoping yo grow it. And she said it would be fine.

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

 Easter

    Back on the bridge, Deanna stood up, turning around to face the science station. “Data, what were you thinking?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “With Westerfield right then?”

    “What did I miss?” Wil asked.

    Data didn’t respond. “Data?” She asked again.

    He turned around. “Westerfield is not a nice person. Read his personnel file.”

    “But to test the man on the bridge?”

    “He is a uniform. Nothing more. There used to be power and pride behind the badges. Now there is nothing.”

    “Oh there is something. He hates you.”

    “Good. Then my emotion is not wasted on him.”

    “There still could be a fall out Data; Picard might say something to you.” Wesley remarked.

    “The Captain is getting a sense of what is going on here. He has much more to worry about than me.” Data turned back to his work.

    Geordi, Data, and Wil were sitting around a table in Ten-Forward. The place was alive with activity. The children were parading around in their costumes. Normally, children were not allowed in Ten-Forward. Today was an exception. Guinan had converted the bar into a soda fountain. Instead of serving ale, she was serving banana splits.

   This one little girl had the three of them talking. Most all of the children had on costumes they recognized except her. There were lambs, Easter eggs, Bible figures, ducks; every imaginable Easter idea was covered, with the exception of this little girl.

    Wil got her attention. She was sad as she came over to their table.

    “What’s your name?” Geordi asked.

    “Angelica,” she said shyly. 

    “What are you supposed to be?” Wil asked with a smile.

    “No,” she smiled and giggled. “You have to guess.”

    Data’s mind began to wonder. He was sitting in a study. It was covered from floor to ceiling with media. He knew what the books were. He recognized their form. However, there were other forms that he didn’t recognize. 

    She called to him, “what’s today?”

    “I do not know!” He called back. There was silence.

    “No, what is today?” She asked again.

    “March 28th, Sunday.” He got up to find her and the answer to her question. As he turned, he jumped. She was standing behind him wearing a sheer green teddy with multi-colored egg shaped objects hanging from it. “What are you?” He asked playfully.

    “I am a jellybean tree.” She modeled her costume with delight.

    “What is a jellybean?”

    “They are these wonderful little candies that I love.”

    “I have never eaten a jellybean.”

    “Try one,” she giggled.

    Data smiled, noticing the little girl again. “You look like a jellybean tree.”

    She shrieked, running from the room between Captain Picard and Admiral Westerfield.

    “I did not think my guess was that bad.” They started talking about other things.

    The little girl came back dragging a lady in a blue accented uniform behind her. “Angelica,” she said with frustration in her voice as the little girl continued to drag her toward their table.

    “Tell her, tell her, tell her,” Angelica begged out of breath.

    “Tell her what?” Geordi asked.

   “What the Golden man thought my costume was?”

   “I am really sorry sirs,” her mother apologized.

    Data looked directly at the disheveled lady, “I merely stated, I thought her costume favored a jellybean tree.”

    Angelica shrieked again, jumping up and down with excitement. “That’s right! That’s right! All day long everyone has been trying to guess. Finally,” she sighed. “Someone got it right.” She handed Data a bag.

    “Jellybeans?”

    “Yes, I love jellybeans,” stretching the word love out as only a child can. “They are the greatest.”

    “Thank you.” Data smiled. 

    “Oh no. Thank you.” She left, dragging the poor lady behind her.

    “Well Mr. Data, you made her day.” Deanna remarked. She was wearing the same dress Sher had worn the first day he met her. Much to Sher’s credit, the dress looked much better on her than Counselor Troi. He thought he was going to die inside.

    “I must go.” He held the chair for Deanna. She sat down with a smile. “I am going to take my jellybeans,” he tossed the bag in the air catching it, “and run.” He said playfully.

    Deanna felt darts being thrown at Data from Westerfield.  

Change 

“People don’t change. You know that? Times, they do.” John Wick 1.  

Viggo Tarasov

Do you believe Viggo? People don’t change. All of my life I’ve heard the saying, “a tiger can’t change it’s stripes.” Once a tiger always a tiger.  Right?

Hebrews 13:8 “Jesus Christ the same yesterday and today and forever.” The only constant in our lives is that Jesus never changes. He’s always the same God. The rules that applied yesterday apply today.  

People: I believe we have the ability to change but we have to put God at the center of that change. Be it trying to kick a habit, loose weight, find a mate, or find a new job. Change is extremely difficult and it is human nature to fight that change. Even if we need it. 

We know all too well time changes and I’m not just talking about the dreaded “spring forward, fall back.” Who would have guessed 10 years ago we would all have a cellphone on our person or electric cars would be the big push? Or that I would be participating in teaching anything associated with the Bible? 

People can change through God. Time flows on into history. God is always the same. 

Lost Past; A Star Trek Story

Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation characters. 

Debris

    Data walked onto the bridge. “Data, how are you feeling today?”

    He glared at Counselor Troi for a minute, studying her question. “Empty,” came his reply. He took his seat at his station.

    “I didn’t think you had the ability to feel,” Westerfield snapped. He was sitting on the right side of the Captain where Wil normally sat.

    Data ignored him.

    “A lot has happened to Mr. Data in the past two years.” Captain Picard voiced. 

    Data spun around in his chair glaring at Westerfield. “I have a better grasp for feelings than you.”

    “I have been feeling my entire life. I have years of experience over you dear boy.” He chuckled.

    “Experience such as, trying to push yourself off on people that would prefer not to have anything to do with you; or sending people off on missions without the proper authorization. Experience indeed.”

    “I will have you court marshaled for this if you don’t pipe down.” Westerfield was half in his chair, half standing.

    “You do not have proper authorization. According to Star Fleet you have officially retired.”

    “I am not finished yet.”

    Deanna thought the old Admiral would burst into tears.

    “No, you are not. You are to rescue the damsel in distress. Get your metal. And walk away from the Federation with pride and joy. It is not going to happen that way.”

    “I have had about enough of you.”

    Data laughed, “really?”

    His console beeped, he spun back around. “Captain, sensors are picking up debris off the port bow.”

    “Debris!” Westerfield shrieked, jumping out of his chair.

    “Sensors are detecting iridium and platinum.”

    “Right,” Westerfield scoffed.

    “Captain, platinum is a mixing agent for iridium.” Data’s attention didn’t waver from his console. “There are also trace elements of Americium.”

    “That is radioactive.” Geordi remarked.

    “What is it doing out here?” Westerfield chimed in.

    Data didn’t hesitate to say, “we recognize it as Americium; however, a different culture may call it something else.”

    Westerfields’ mind wondered, platinum was very expensive. It was a very useful element. Dollar signs jumped before his eyes. At the same time he gave an outward sigh of relief.

    “Isn’t iridium a strange medal to build a starship with?” Geordi asked.

    “Yes it is. However, this compound is extremely strong. We are assuming this debris is from a starship. If it was, it was built well.” Data answered.

    “And the Americium?” Picard asked.

    Data got up from his console to walk back to the science station where Geordi was. “Since it is a radioactive element, it would be a safe assumption it was used as a propellant.”

    “Number One to the bridge,” moments later Wil stepped onto the bridge. “I will be in lab 3.” Picard stated.

    As the captain began to leave, Westerfield called after him, “I will join you Captain.” He followed the captain into the turbo lift. Once inside he spoke. “I don’t know how you do it Jean-Luc. It has been years since I have been on a starship this long. Already I am weary.” 

    “I guess that is where we are different Charles, I love this. I want nothing more. Stop turbo lift,” Picard instructed as the turbo lift slid to a stop. “What is the friction between you and Lieutenant Commander Data?”

    “I am not sure. But he sure does have a problem with me.”

    “Have you done what he accused you of?”

    “He has been reading my personnel file. I did something bad a long time ago. I got what I deserved.”

    “Is this mission a throwback from that ‘getting what you deserve’?”

    Charles didn’t answer. “Hasn’t Counselor Troi organized a party?”

    “Easter, she thinks it will raise spirits. They have been dragging lately. Everyone is on pins and needles around here.”

    “Easter?”

    “Yes, the children are having an Easter egg hunt in the Arboretum. Later everyone will be in Ten-Forward for Easter treats.”

    “Sounds interesting.”

    “Yes it does.” Jean-Luc smiled.

    “Can we move now?”

    “Start turbo lift.” It slid back into motion.

*

Ten-Forward

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Ten_Forward

Waste not. Want not.

My latest little book of poems is available on Amazon. I know this isn’t what I told Masticadores Canada. This is part of a project I’m doing for a class. More on that when it happens.

These poems reflect the things I do for a frugal lifestyle. Starting at the bottom. Or being a cheapskate, I’ll take it. 😉